


The Great Perhaps

by How_To_Be_A_Fangirl_101



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter Movies - Fandom
Genre: AU - what if the Deathly Hallows were insanely powerful, Author Does Not Know How To Tag, Death is also very dangerous and should be taken seriously, Death is quite sassy though, Does it count as major character death if they come back to life?, Drama, Epilogue Not Included, Fear me!, Gen, Harry has a rather important decision to make, Humor, Lil' bit of angst, Takes place at the end of book 7, and being the Master of Death actually meant something, attempts at humor, master of death! harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/How_To_Be_A_Fangirl_101/pseuds/How_To_Be_A_Fangirl_101
Summary: He is not dead, not yet, not while he is the Master of Death. He had fallen in the Forbidden Forest, and now he stands in King’s Cross Station. And in front of him, he sees a very old friend.“Hello,” he offers a greeting, “You’re not really Dumbledore, are you.”Dumbledore shakes his head, and his figure shifts to a thousand others, a few of which Harry recognizes, before settling on the Headmaster’s form once again. “No, I am not. Good of you to notice, though. No one ever does.” Death smiles crookedly, an expression ill-fitting to the face it wears, or perhaps any earthly face at all. “I just thought that you would be more at ease with a familiar face. You can still call me Professor, if you wish.”Or, in other words, how Harry discovered that the Deathly Hallows are very different than he had previously expected them to be.





	The Great Perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is basically a "what-if" scenario of the ending (the epilogue was conveniently forgotten, I'm afraid). Basically, the Hallows are very powerful and slightly sentient, kinda like horcruxes, and that being a Master of Death allows Harry to actually resurrect people. And then Harry has to deal with the choice of reversing the deaths of everyone, or to give up all that power, yadda yadda. 
> 
> Title is taken from the last words of the poet Francois Rabelais, "I go to seek a Great Perhaps", you know, 'cause I thought it would be funny ... 'cause of Harry, and, Death, haha ... (nevermind)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter, except a wand and a Ravenclaw scarf I got last time I went to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

 

 

 

          The forest was silent, almost expectant, as Harry walked. The tree trunks seemed to lean forward towards him as if they wanted him to share some confidential secret. No wind ruffled the branches, and yet leaves rustled all the same, whispering to each other in their secret tongue. Harry knew what they were waiting for -- for his sands to fall through the hourglass. He had escaped death once as a baby, and had lived on borrowed time since then. Now, his seconds stolen from his mother were coming to a final, unchangeable close.

 

          _Close_. Of course. The Snitch. Harry stops walking and pulls it out of his pocket, and whispers to it of his imminent close. And then, of course, it could only be the Resurrection Stone. He laughs then, perhaps a bit hysterically, because he’s stopped in front of a bridge over a small stream. The stream itself is only a few feet across – large enough for jumping to lead to wet shoes, and is surprisingly clear colored. He would have expected any water in the Forbidden Forest to be as murky as the trees themselves. It is not the water nor the bridge that causes his laughter, but the fact that _he_ , Harry Potter, has now come into possession of the last Deathly Hallow.

 

          The Stone gently revolves in the air, and he reaches out a fist to capture it. The moment it rests in his palm, something snaps into place. All the Hallows have been united under one Master, him, and he feels very peculiar indeed. Was he always this aware of how much death there was in a forest? Harry can feel how many ants are dying because a rabbit stepped on their nest, and he can feel each individual leaf breaking off and fluttering to the ground. He is calm, much more so than when he entered this forest, although he doesn’t feel too much like himself anymore.

 

          The Stone hums gently in his hand, bringing him back from the trance he had fallen into. He looks down at it, and pauses. With mastery over death, he knows that the Stone could actually resurrect, rather than show pale shades of those who once were. He could bring back so many wronged by Voldemort. Colin could finally get that autograph he wanted. Cedric could hug his father again. Snape could live in peace knowing that Lily’s son would be safe. Dobby could buy all the socks he could ever want. Remus and Tonks could see their son start a family of his own. Sirius could be a godfather and a free man once again. James and Lily could see what their son had grown into. Dumbledore could rest knowing that Voldemort is dead and that no more children would die for that cause. And Fred, poor Fred, he could be happy with his twin and his shop.

 

          But wait, what would happen if he did bring someone back? The Hallows would be known, and regardless of if he keeps the Hallows or not, one of the many searchers would eventually get their prize. And if so, what would happen? If someone like Voldemort became their master, all would be lost. But if Harry leaves death to itself, then how many people will continue grieving, how much life was wasted by those deaths, how much of others’ happiness and his own would be turned to shadows?

 

          For a long, breathless moment, Harry stares down at the Stone and the Stone looks back at him. Then, he wraps the Invisibility cloak around it and puts them both back in his robes, because even if he brought forth just the shades of his dead, he knows that his resolve would fail and he would bring everyone back regardless. But what is done is done, and should stay done. No one should have the power that comes from the Hallows. It would be best if they were forgotten by history as just another children’s tale. But if the one person, just the one, that Harry regrets leaving to Death, it is Fred. Fred, who is a half of a whole. His absence will be devastating to George. The twins grew up always having someone next to them, always having someone to escape with, who would always have their back. For Harry, he would rather lose both his parents and have them be together than have one outlive the other. Harry could always learn about his parents from friends and live to honor their memory. But to lose someone so integral to one’s self; no, Harry thinks that it would be worse to be half of something rather than nothing. But Fred’s life isn’t worth more than the future, even though Harry wishes it were.

 

          And so, Harry looks over the bridge and in the direction of his fate. For a moment, he thinks that he sees a pale image of Fred ahead of him, smiling ruefully and nodding at him before turning to go. Then it fades away, and Harry is left alone. He walks once more, the Hallows’ thrumming becoming more insistent at each step.

 

          Then, he is at the clearing facing down a sneering Voldemort. Then, there is a flash of green light. Then, there is white.

 

 

**********

 

 

          He is not dead, not yet, not while he is the Master of Death. He had fallen in the Forbidden Forest, and now he stands in King’s Cross Station. And in front of him, he sees a very old friend.

 

          “Hello,” he offers a greeting, “You’re not really Dumbledore, are you.”

 

          Dumbledore shakes his head, and his figure shifts to a thousand others, a few of which Harry recognizes, before settling on the Headmaster’s form once again. “No, I am not. Good of you to notice, though. No one ever does.” Death smiles crookedly, an expression ill-fitting to the face it wears, or perhaps any earthly face at all. “I just thought that you would be more at ease with a familiar face. You can still call me Professor, if you wish.”

 

          “Why are we here?” Harry asks, waving a hand at the general surroundings. He pointedly ignores the last comment.

 

          “You are here because I brought you here, and _I_ am here because you wanted to talk to me.” Death inclines its head, motioning for Harry to walk with it.

 

          Harry thinks for a moment, then does indeed discover questions to ask. “Why make the Hallows? Why not just kill the Three Brothers right away?”

 

          Death sighs out a chuckle and looks at Harry fondly. “I was angry at the Brothers. I wanted more than justice; I wanted revenge. So I gave each brother their deepest desire and made it their downfall. Well, except for the third; he managed to wriggle away very neatly, I have to say.”

 

          Harry blinks, unsure of the proper response to that, or if he is expected to offer one. “So, er, can the Hallows be destroyed?”

 

          Death glances at him and fires off a razor-sharp smile. “Of course, but not by any wizard.”

 

          “Umm…” Harry blinks again.

 

          “You have to understand that I am a very greedy being at heart,” Death continues. “My whole purpose in, err, not life, afterlife, or perhaps non-life?" Death mutters to itself for a moment on the semantics of considering its existence 'life' if it has never lived in the first place. "Anyway, my purpose is to stop everything from living, like one of those puzzles where you have to move a block from one side to the other by moving other blocks around. The _Hallows’_ purpose is to help along the process, and I won’t deny any help given to me, of course. They’ll keep on finding new masters, new wizards who will pick them up, and who I will pick up in return.” Another smile, like the ones given to children to reassure them, but ultimately confirm the worst. 

 

          For the first time, Harry realizes that Death is his natural enemy, and that he, Harry, was prey. A shiver momentarily wracks his body. But then he gathers his courage and asks a question that could lead to, if not death, then danger. “What, uh, what would you do if I ordered you to destroy them? I’m your Master, after all.”

 

          Thankfully, Death only throws back its head and laughs heartily. “You may be the Master of Death, but not the master of Death. Think of the concept of Death and the action of dying as separate things. I am the concept, not the event. You have been granted mastery over the action. So, while you may be the Master of Death, you are no master of _me_. And if you _did_ try to command me, well, the attempt would be _highly_ amusing.”

 

          Harry rolls this information around his head, and having nothing better to say, simply says, “Oh.”

 

          Death hums in agreement, and they both continue down the never-ending stretch of platform in silence for a while. Harry’s thoughts turn to the task ahead of him, and he suddenly feels a shiver of apprehension drip down his spine.

 

          “Does it hurt? Dying, I mean.” He says, breaking the silence of the station.

 

          “Not that I’d know myself,” Death chuckles wryly, “But I’ve heard that it’s peaceful. One might say that it’s a relief to be free of all that tension and mortal plight.” Death pauses for a second, then continues. “You know, you don’t have to go back there. You could just stay here and let someone else take care of the world for once.” Death looks rather more intense than a few seconds ago, but there’s a sly glint in its eyes that makes Harry feel nervous.

 

          Death croons, words creating a soothing vision of peace, of home. “Holding the world up by yourself, it’s got to be heavy for a young man like yourself. Wouldn’t it be easier to just … let go and see your family again? I know for a fact that they miss you.”

 

          Harry imagines what staying with Death would be like for a moment; he imagines burying his face in his mother's shoulder, hugging her, and having his father ruffle his hair. “Yeah, it would be easier.”

 

          Death’s smile gets bigger.

 

          “But easier doesn’t always mean better.”

 

          Death’s smile drops.

 

          “And I know what you’re doing; I’m not stupid. If I die now, then I never kill Voldemort, and he goes on to kill more and more people so you get your souls early. ‘Sides, a lot of people have died to stop Voldemort, and a lot more would die if I don’t face him. I won’t be the one to dishonor them and make their sacrifices meaningless.”

 

          Death laughs heartily, and the intensity fades away. “Well, can’t blame me for trying. Anyhow, what I wanted was your choice. I get everyone’s souls soon enough. But you, Harry Potter, yours is one that I look forward to getting.”

 

          “Choice,” Death exhales dreamily, “Is something I don’t ever have. Spend yours well, Boy Who Lived, and you might find that I am not so heartless as I seem. Oh, and I have a present for you before you go – tie up any loose threads, would you?”

 

          It spreads its arms, the silver cloak darkening from the top down like the last rays of sunlight, while the flesh thins until it is indistinguishable from bone. “See you around, Harry.” Death vanishes in a grinning swirl of black fabric accompanied with a loud thunderclap. Harry blinks inexplicable black spots from his eyes and wonders if the inside of Death’s cloak was black or very dark green. He thinks of a particular green curse, and decides that he really doesn’t want to know anyhow.

 

          Then, he finds that the 'present' is a talk with Dumbledore, the _real_ Dumbledore. Then, he wakes in the forest. Then, Hagrid carries him to Hogwarts. Then, he is standing over a corpse.

 

 

**********

 

 

          Still clutched in his palm, the Elder Wand vibrates with joy at being in the hands of its Master and so near its fellows. The Invisibility Cloak and the Resurrection Stone also shiver, and the Hallows warm up against his skin. Voldemort is just another dead body, albeit one with unnatural snakelike features. It’s strange to think that someone who terrorized the world for so long could be reduced to so little in the end, but then he thinks that perhaps it isn’t so strange. After all, Death is the one true equalizer.

 

          He brings out the Stone and the Cloak from his robes, and holds the Hallows in his hands. He looks down on them, gathered together for the first time since their creation. They whisper to him, and he can feel them curling their tendrils into his head – he can faintly hear Death’s high, mocking laughter over the roaring in his ears. Oh, what he could _do_ with them; what deaths he could overwrite and what lives he could better, -- but what deaths could he bring and what that power could do. Absolute power was never supposed to be held and left free to corrupt. The Hallows, sensing his resolve, seep into him, smother him, but he lifts their influence up like a wet blanket, and surfaces from it like breaking the face of a pond.

 

          Feeling calmer and much more himself, he takes out the pouch around his neck and opens it, while he stuffs the cloak back where it belongs. His broken hawthorn wand is fixed with a simple _reparo_ , and he uses it to send the Elder Wand where it belongs – clasped in the hands of the man whom it should have died with.

 

          After that is done, the Stone glitters innocently in his left, while his wand sits in the right. As Harry stares at the Stone, he thinks of another unfair death, and turns the Stone thrice. A familiar snowy owl hoots happily at him, and he can’t help but grin in relief. “Hello, girl. I’m so very happy to see you, too. Do you think you can fly to the Owlery and wait there until I can get you? Try not to let anyone see you; I wouldn’t want them asking any questions I can’t answer.” She nips his finger gently, and he rubs her head before she takes off in a flurry of white feathers.

 

          As Hedwig glides through the sky, Harry feels the weight of the Stone in his hand, and suddenly thinks of the seaside cave. With a few adjustments, it could be a very suitable hiding place indeed for an object that shouldn’t be found. Plan in place, Harry puts the Stone in his pocket and starts making his way back to the castle. He’s incredibly tired, but knows that he’ll need one heck of an explanation by the time he returns.

 

_At least I’ll have the walk back to think about my cover story. I’ll want to tell Dumbledore what happened, at least, and of course, I’ll tell Ron and Hermione the whole thing later …_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> After-reading thoughts/notes:
> 
> (Okay, so, it's fine, there's just still water leaking from my eyes because of the 7th book. I'm still not over all the beloved characters we had to say goodbye to. And so, because I wanted to torture myself a little, I wrote this, in which Harry is given the power to change that and refuses to do so. Aaaarrrrgggghh!)  
> \- Author's thoughts after writing this one-shot
> 
> I brought Hedwig back because Harry can say that he just got another snowy owl; he couldn't do the same if he brought a person back. (Also, because I think that, besides Fred, her death was the most unfair)
> 
> If the "seaside cave" doesn't ring any bells, it's the cave that the locket horcrux was kept. So, after he gets back to Hogwarts, I like to imagine that Harry put the Stone there and added spells to make it completely impenetrable, then like in the movie broke the Elder Wand, and then still kept the Cloak for himself.
> 
>  
> 
> So, yeah. That's it. Shoo. Go make yourself fish-fingers and custard, or something.


End file.
